Tail spin, tail spin, talisman.
What save ye inside of me,
which has begun to bend?
Tempered steel, the fire doth congeal,
beyond your symbol's pride,
you can not the spiral stop,
the tail spin out of site.
And if I find a truth divine,
would it be as the talisman of my dreams?
Could it change or rearrange,
my cloak's sanities weakening seams?
Say me to thee; "pity not,"
as down you look the frown you see.
'tis just a fool in live's tail spin,
to the talisman I cry,
an unheard plea.